Vision for the Future
by Mikells
Summary: Book 1: Goku has become the target of a dastardly brilliant scientist who is intent on avenging the destruction of the Red Ribbon Army. (Is imagined as a "live action" take on the Trunks-Cell Games Sagas, not as a novel of the manga ... if that makes any sense.)


**Prologue**

Hidden in the shadows, he watched, and he waited. The nights had been cold of late and though chilly this night all he wore were slacks, a form-fitting top with an open vest. His long, grey-white hair was tied back at the nape of his neck and tucked down the back of his shirt and his bushy moustache was trimmed as best he could manage it.

He was only slightly impatient tonight, his foot tapping the cold stone-paved lane in which he was hidden and he occupied his slight boredom by running through equations and solutions. Combinations of chemicals he had tried that had failed and combinations he'd never considered before that might work towards his goals. Some might fail as other had before. But that was a bridge he would cross when he came to it.

The main street of North City was more or less quiet tonight. Most people were at home eating dinner and watching television. Children would be studying under the watchful gazes of their parents. The elderly would be knitting or napping. Mothers would be suckling their babes and fathers would be knocking back a beer or two after a long hard day of work.

But the two that the long-haired man watched weren't such people.

He judged them to be siblings; a boy and a girl. He had brown hair and she blonde, both shoulder length and hanging in the same way framing their perfect faces. They had piercing, ice-blue eyes that could freeze a person when caught by their gaze and a distinctive, arrogant swagger that put out an aura of self-confidence and self-assuredness.

In a word, they were _perfect_.

So he waited. He followed them through the night, keeping a discreet distance. He was sure he wasn't seen once. The way they acted, the way they held themselves, there was no doubt in the man's mind that had they known of his persistent observation of them they would have confronted him. That they hadn't only served to confirm that he was doing fine.

At first, the brother and sister simply walked the streets for a while. They passed the night market on the north side of town where they fondled and ogled merchandise from at least a dozen stores. He took an apple from a fruit stand and, without paying, bit a large chunk from it before tossing it back to the merchant and continuing onwards.

From there they took a taxi to the clubs on the east side where the man watched the siblings tease their way through a crowd of gyrating teenagers and shameless adults. They ordered drinks from the counter that they were given free: the barman seemed overly familiar with them, and had trouble keeping his eyes from the woman's chest. Not that the man that watched them could blame him, though he himself harboured no such lecherous thoughts toward her. It was simple scientific curiosity and observation.

After a few hours of dancing and breaking hearts, the two left the club, arms linked and laughing madly at their antics. The long-haired man followed, making sure to keep to the shadows on the other side of the street. He chanced looks at them every few seconds to make sure that they didn't leave his sight, but he knew better than to watch them without interruption. The human instinct of knowing when one was being watched was an uncanny sixth sense that could very well be his undoing if he wasn't careful.

Right now, though, they seemed to be visiting either friend or family. They'd stopped at a residence only a few blocks away from where Capsule Corp. was located, knocked, and been shown in by a woman only a few years older than they with a mess of black curls.

It was across the street from that house that the long-haired man waited for them to re-emerge. Patience usually was something he was quite skilled at, but in this instance some drive was seeking to undo all of that. His foot continued to tap against the ground beneath his feet and he quickly grew bored and frustrated with the incessant calculations and equations he was running to keep himself occupied.

It only took three hours for them to emerge from the house, calling farewells over their shoulders to whomever they had been visiting and waving as they left. The door shut behind them, and as the man watched, he saw the woman twirl something gold around her index finger with a chuckle. It sparkled under the street lights. Her brother laughed along with her and together they proceeded back down the direction from which they'd come.

The chance had come across him. It had been purely by coincidence that he had happened upon the pair, and though he was unsure if they would ultimately serve his experiments he felt confident now that they would after all the observations he had made. They would be his crowning achievement. People around the globe would know his name for what he would do.

The man raced on ahead of the pair, anticipating their path and putting himself in a position to take advantage of that.

He pulled a vial of clear liquid out from his inside vest pocket and, with delicate care, coated the sharp cufflinks of his long-sleeved top with the substance. The contents used up, he tossed the vial over his shoulder, heard the crash of glass against the pavement and the tinkle of it shattering. Then he pushed on.

It took only a few minutes before he saw them again. He was now on the same pathway they were walking down, heading in the opposite direction. He took great pains to make himself seem unobtrusive, unworthy of their attention; looking down at the ground as he walked and mumbling what would appear to be nonsense to anyone else but were actually new equations he was running.

The two of them were conversing quite cheerfully when he approached them—they were congratulating each other on some scam or another. He figured that had been the purpose of their last visit. No matter. He passed by between them, acting oblivious to their presence.

The sound of two sharp intakes of breath—one from each of them—told him that his ruse had succeeded. The sharp points on his cufflinks had scratched them. The substance that had coated those points would even now be working its way into their systems, doing its job.

"Hey! Geezer! What the hell was that?" the young man shouted after him as he continued onward. He ignored them, mumbling still even as he felt one of them push him hard from behind. He stumbled. "I asked you a question, old man!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Steven," the woman said in a bored sort of drawl. She laughed, and the long-haired man felt a boot connect with the back of his calf.

He went down to his knees for only a moment before getting back to his feet and continuing on, mumbling even more. With luck, they would think he was unhinged and just leave him alone. With even more luck, they would start to feel the effects of the serum soon enough.

"Ugh!" It was the woman who reacted first. Her breathing hitched. She stumbled and crashed to her knees on the pavement.

"Eileen! Her brother shouted, rushing to her side. Then, "Ah!" Another thud told the old man that he too had just hit the ground.

The man turned around, his mumbling stopped. He looked down at the two of them as they keeled over backwards in some odd form of synchronicity. Slightly amusing. At least there was some form of entertainment value to watching them lose consciousness.

"What have you … done?" the young man struggled to say.

"You will see," the old man said with a broad smile meant to reassure the two of them. "You will soon see."

With barely another glance at them, he reached into his other vest pocket and withdrew a small device with a nob and a couple of buttons on it. He fiddled with it for barely a second before tossing it over to the nearby road. As it flew through the air, it transformed, unfolding over and over, decompressing from its miniscule containment.

When the vehicle was fully formed, he turned back to the siblings. They were unconscious now, lying side-by-side on the pavement in odd positions, clutching at the small scratches on their hands.

The old man picked each of them up, one at a time, and loaded them into the back seat of the vehicle before jumping in himself and driving away.


End file.
